


Avatar: The Last Jedi

by Bioluminescent



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender, Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Star Wars Setting, Benders are Jedi, Gen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, WIP, misuse of Star Wars lore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-07-03 00:53:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15808002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bioluminescent/pseuds/Bioluminescent
Summary: Ever since Emperor Sozin, the All Powerful and Dark Leader of the Empire, had the Jedi temples scattered around the galaxy destroyed, the balance in the universe has been unsettled. Once the harvest of Force wielders became a commonplace tool of the Empire, families hide and individuals try to escape inevitable torture to the places of the Rebellion. Those who still believe in the Jedi Order believe that the old prophecy of the Avatar, a Jedi of insurmountable power and skill, would come true to restore balance in the galaxy.Most believe the prophecy to be propaganda. But with war imminent and the Force so unbalanced, there are those who still believe in the Jedi legends.





	Avatar: The Last Jedi

**Author's Note:**

> Just a usual plot bunny for two fandoms I haven't written in before. I have no idea if or when I will continue this so be warned. Either way, I had a lot of fun writing this, so enjoy! As always, not betaed so all mistakes are my own.

_“Katara!”_ The muffled sounds of soft footsteps and a pebble clattering down a small set of stairs floats through stale air, and something shifts in the darkness. _“Get back here, we shouldn’t be here!”_

The lilting voice echoes, even as hushed as it is, through the airy tunnels and passageways that make up the abandoned temple. Quiet squeaking of cave-mice reaches old ears, even as the soft footsteps of the intruders cautiously make their way closer.

As the soft glow of a hand light makes its way around the corner, Gyatso sighs to himself, even as he catches the soft angles and youthful brashness of the youngsters as they enter his room.

Windows in the outer walls help him see the blues, greys, and whites of their clothes, the boy with hints of black around his belt. White eyebrows rise as the youngsters -- clearly siblings now as they come closer, the brother with one hand clenched in the back of his sisters robes -- walk into a dull beam of light leaking from the windows, revealing the shockingly sharp blues of their eyes, as well as the dim patterns of gills on the sides of their necks, sealed flat and dry in the absence of water.

Now, the land walking water dwellers of Kaysa were not something he had ever expected to stray into the reaches of the Empire. Gyatso is sure that if he looked closer he would see more of their ancestry painted over their bodies in splashes of sharp teeth reminiscent of the depths and slick webbing between long fingers with nails more clawlike than most are comfortable with. A faint gleam of scales on the back of the girls hand as she gestures about the room only proves his point, but the sight of the Force gently swirling and tugging at the her intrigues him more than their aquatic ancestry.

Drifting closer, Gyatso remains out of sight from the both of them, watching as the Force beckons and plays all around her, much like when he was still alive and would watch it do the same around himself and his age mates.

The brother wraps a hand around her bicep, stopping her from heading down the backstairs when she makes a noise of interest and steps toward it. “Katara, we really aren’t supposed to be here, you know that.”

She scoffs. “You can’t really think that they patrol around here, can you? Listen Sokka,” she blatantly ignores his harshly whispered _yes!_ and motions with her other hand to the stairwell. “We can explore for a little bit, and then we can leave!” Sokka looks off to the side, chewing the bottom of his lips as he thinks, and Gyatso watches amazed as his sister sidles up to him, her hand floating through the air, little eddies of the Force trailing behind her fingers as she smiles up at him. “Hey, we might even find some scrap to sell or use.”

And with that, he caves.

Gyatso trails after the two of them, stunned with the knowledge that a Kaysa wielder had even been allowed to survive, or more likely, had escaped the bloodbath that had ravaged that waterworld. Either way, she exists and she is here, and there may not be any better chance for things to occur.

He shakes his head when he hears Sokka grumbling under his breath as his sister tugs him deeper into the temple, “If we’re caught by those bucketheads I’ll put tiger-seal fat into your bedroll if it kills me.”

Either way, the two youngsters make their way through the wide entrance halls down into the various classrooms. Sokka pokes around one of the abandoned salle halls, startling a group of swallow-bats from their perch in the high rafters. Their suddenly loud flight in the silence almost hides a faint hum in the air.

“What was that?”

Sokka turns to Katara, and Gyatso watches with interest as the youngling pulls a boomerang from his loose robes, ignoring the staff on his back, clenching it in wrapped hands.

Katara shrugs. “It definitely wasn’t a ship so I think we’re fine.”

She turns and leaves the room, Sokka scrambling after her and pushing himself in front of her as they continue down the hall. Gyatso floats behind them, nudging at the edges of Sokka’s mind gently, and they soon reach another flight of stairs with his guidance.

They pause at the top as Sokka leans over the rail, peering down into the spiraling darkness. 

Katara kicks a pebble and they listen as it clatters down before coming to a stop, various creatures settling themselves at the noise.

Soon enough, they reach the bottom and the space opens up around them.

“Whoa,” Katara hums in agreement and spreads to the other side of the room as her brother, taking in the neat, if dusty, row of pods leaning against the wall.

She runs a finger through the thick layer of dust covering one table in the room, the dim light from her hand light showing the metallic gleam on the pods. “I wonder what this used to be.”

Sokka wanders over and peers over her shoulder, tucking his weapon away. “Must’ve been some kind of medical hall. Either way, there’s some good metal in these we could use.”

“Sokka!”

Flapping his hands to quiet her outburst, he glares at her. “You’re the one who suggested it in the first place! I was more than happy to just go and get the things Gran-Gran asked us for and then go home! Also, you’re the one who wanted to come here!”

Katara reaches the last pod in the row and stands in front of it silently, before reaching up and beginning to wipe the dust away from it. “Well, yeah, of course I did. Just think, Sokka! Maybe there are still some Jedi scrolls left in here that I could use —” she breaks off when Sokka scoffs.

“As if anything survived in this musty old cave that the scavengers haven’t already gotten. C’mon Katara be realistic here.” Sokka bends over a small chest, scrubbing grime from the top, turning it in his hands to catch the light. “The Empire probably burned or took any of the teachings left by the Jedi in the temples.”

“But we can’t exactly desecrate this place anymore than it has been for some ancient med pod metal.”

Sokka stares at her, incredulous. “And why not?”

“Because, because, well just because! It’s wrong, Sokka!” She whips around to glare at him, braid flying, and Gyatso watches as the Force swells around her, her anger bubbling up clear and strong enough around her that he can feel it. “Oh!”

Katara steps back from the pod, now glowing gently in the dim room and accompanied the same soft hum from earlier, orange and blue lights flashing gently before the edges of the hatch pop open with a hiss and a quiet beep. Stepping forward, one arm held out to pull Katara back, Sokka edges himself around her, his boomerang aimed at the creaking pod in front of them.

Another quiet moan and the hinges give way, rotted through as they were, the entire door clattering to the floor.

The room stills as the siblings stare at the sight before them. Gyatso watches, pleased.

Groggily, eyes fluttering open in distress, his young padawan looks around him, hands clenching around the edges of the pod to pull himself out, only for his legs to fail him.

Katara catches him easily, ignoring the hiss from her brother, eyes and fingers finding the braid that runs down his students back from his short cut hair. 

“What happened?”

“Um…” Grey eyes meet hers and Katara blinks. “Hi?”

“What-” Aang pushes himself up, arms trembling as he begins to look around the room, eyes wide, “Where am I? Who are you?”

“You’re in the temple —”

Aang pushes himself away from Katara, scrambling away from her on the floor and pebbles skitter away from him in a wave of nervousness and the Force. “This can’t, this isn’t the temple, it can’t be.”

Sokka clenches his fist tighter in the back of Katara’s robes, and Gyatso can feel the gears turning in the youngsters head. “What was the last thing you remember before you got put in the pod?”

Swallowing, he says, “I was with Master Gyatso and we were gonna go see my friend at the Easatine temple when the Elders said I couldn’t go. So we came down here and everything was shaking and I didn’t know why and then Gyatso told me to hide, and then I hid in there and everything went dark and then I woke up here.” He is quiet for a moment, hands rubbing nervously together before he perks up. “I’m Aang by the way! It’s nice to meet you even though there should be a medic around here.” Aang glances around the room eagerly, wilting slightly when no one else makes an appearance.

Gyatso sidles closer to the door.

“Um...where is everybody?”

Sokka trades a glance with Katara and she grimaces.

“Aang? Everybody is, um, everybody in the temple is dead.”

Silence settles over the room.

The sharp bark of laughter from Aang is clearly not what they expected. “That’s definitely not right! How could everybody be dead? I mean, I’m still here!” Aang pats his chest and head, smiling at the siblings in front of him. His smile falls at the sad look Katara is giving him and the wary one from Sokka. “Right?”

Before either of them can do anything, Aang is bolting out of the room, zipping up the stairs hollering for everyone to come out.

Sokka follows Katara as they chase after him, puffing out, “Nothing like some weird guy in a med pod in an abandoned temple to make exploring turn really sour, really quickly.”

They stop in the ante chamber as Aang flutters down in front of them, chest heaving.

Gyatso fades even further as the Force ripples around them, Katara tensing at the feel.

“They can’t be.” Aang looks up at the two of them. “Can they?”

Sokka clears his throat and says, “Uh, Aang, the temples have been abandoned for about 100 standard years.”

Stumbling back as if physically struck, Aang shakes his head. “No, no, no nononono.” Furniture lining the walls shifts back into unforgiving stone with a crack, and Katara tightens her grip on Sokka’s sleeve. 

Aang falls to his knees and keens, his hands clenched into fists against his head and chest, and Gyatso knows what is coming, because he knows what his poor padawan is missing.

Grief slices through the Force with all the power of an exploding star, and Gyatso feels more than sees Katara drop to the ground, her brother clinging to her as the air around them vibrates like a bell being run. 

Anguish. Sorrow. Grief. Anger. Confusion.

One after the other with no pause between them, Gyatso is pushed away from the living even further, and he closes his eyes and prays his student will live to see the next sunrise.

Because through the galaxy, those who are users and who are sensitive to the Force collapse to their knees, overtaken by sudden and ruthless anguish, as if someone had reached into their chest and _pulled_ at their heart, tearing at their emotions and crying out to them in vain. 

Somewhere far off, a pair of golden eyes snaps open, devoid of tears, burning with intensity as a foreboding figure straightens from his meditation on his throne.

He looks down at the children kneeling before him.

“Find the Jedi, and bring him to me.”


End file.
